Almost Disgusting
by Karenin-Akbash-07
Summary: Steve is regular man. Works as a teacher, has a beautiful wife and a cute little daughter. A perfect life! The only thing that is slightly off, though, are his nightmares. Terribbe dream sequences in the world of Minecraft. He knows that it is just silly to think of it, but a part of him cannot stop asking... "Why?" -And breathing quickly, the children fell to their knees
1. City

Silence was like a plague in the old, mostly abandoned town. The only creatures that roamed the gravel streets and iron buildings were a few mobs, who had made the place their home.

It was an oppressive ambient, always full of fog and unexplainably hot. Headaches were a common thing around there, and most Players that dared to enter such place felt sick and nauseous.

The smell didn't help it in the slightest, too.

It was partly the mobs fault. They all were dirty and disgusting, crawling around their homes and almost never cleaning anything. Fecal matter, trash, useless things, rotting food…those things were everywhere on the streets.

Corpses of dead creatures were also thrown around, half eaten and full of vermin and silverfish, disgusting parodies of the zombies. The rancid smell spread everywhere and was so strong that even creatures that were alive smelled of putrefaction.

Through the grey streets, two unusual visitants walked: A creeper lady, ahead, a confident smile on her disgusting face and a human man, looking almost afraid and walking slowly, always trembling.

"Catherine…where are we?"

He was nervous and trembled. He didn't know what this place was or how he had gotten there. All he knew was that he had woken up there, already walking by the creeper's side.

"Don't you worry, sweetie…I got a place for you to stay, see? You will be treated like a king tonight!"

She giggled, like the insane creature she was.

They made their way through the fog and the filth, only finding a couple skeletons outside, practicing…something. Sticking as many arrows trough their empty eye sockets as possible, to be exact.

Soon, they found themselves on the front door of what looked like an old bar. Its windows were broken and the place looked like it was falling apart. Inside, a couple torches were lit and some mobs whispered among themselves, discussing nonsense, eating and drinking, as if thought they were humans.

Catherine opened the door, which made a loud creaking noise. At her sight, all the creatures stopped whatever they were doing to look at her, a pathetic mix of fear and respect on their eyes.

Steve simply stared, not knowing how to react properly. Sure, he knew those mobs in particular wouldn't harm him, but…there was something just wrong about them. Something in their smiles, their gestures, their eyes…

Corruption.

"Good evening, my children! We have a very special visitor tonight!"

Hisses, claps, thumping and screams were heard as the mobs cheered; a spark of sound in the middle of the town.

The sudden sound startled Steve, who tried to step back and leave the place, just to be stopped by a bizarre looking Enderman.

The child was sitting on a minecart, legs paralyzed on an awkward position. She didn't have arms either. Despite this, she seemed very excited, not noticing she was right in front of the door.

His eyes widened at the sight of it. It was just wrong…all of this was. Why? How could this even be possible? Children didn't act like that…they cried at pain and fled from danger! And yet, these ones seemed to simply enjoy the decrepit state of their world..

Catherine stepped near him, close enough to whisper on his ear, amidst the sudden chaos on the place.

"They all love you, sweetie…to their bitter end…why don't you enjoy the party with us, then?"

He shivered in fear. Her sickly sweet voice made him uncomfortable, almost scared of what that could mean.

He looked around, feeling a wave of panic. Many childish faces that he couldn't understand, surrounding, overwhelming him with a sense of claustrophobia, sickness and depravation. Smiling, laughing, inviting to a corrupted world… All of them unknown, broken**, **useless…

"_Toys_"

His heart stopped for a second. This had been a sudden thought of his. Every single piece of him protested against it, deeming it as terrible, horrifying…more than it should have been. That word had a strange meaning, a life of its own, a hidden intelligence behind the mask of innocence.

Suddenly, it was everywhere. A painful group of living letters marked with fire on his mind, swirling around, taunting him, telling him to think more, to look deeper and deeper, until he couldn't see a thing anymore…

"Hey, sir? You alright?"

He blinked.

He was no longer on the little bar, but sitting on the red mattresses of a bed. On the other side of the dirty, unknown room, some kind of zombie and silverfish hybrid stared at him, full of curiosity and gentleness.

Steve felt his heart skip a beat out of fear, which took his voice for a while.

"Who…who are you? How did I get here?"

The creature gently approached and sat by his side, trying to calm him down.

"Don't worry, Catherine told me to take care of you, that is all…"

This didn't answer Steve's questions, of course, but at least made him less nervous...

Surreal. All of this. But what could he do? He didn't know a thing about the reasons behind all of this! Trying to fight would be in vain in such situation.

He sighed and laid down, letting the other lay by his side. It wasn't really important, now…of course not… He felt a sudden apathy wash over him.

"You know, Steve… you are lucky that Catherine likes you that much…"

He didn't reply. Particularly, he didn't know why she liked him or how that could a good thing. Hell, he didn't even know how who she was before waking up here! Everything before arriving to the town was just…blurry, but at the same time…it felt natural, like this world followed its own logic and he just had to go along with it to understand.

He didn't feel like fighting against the flow of things, right now. He simply absorbed the place around him, not complaining about the silverfish crawling on the bed and over him, the water dripping from the fragile ceiling, in an annoying pattern, the smell of everything, including of the child by his side, the dim illumination…

His eyelids felt heavier and heavier, to the point it was just easier to close his eyes. His respiration became slower and deeper, too.

The creature leaned in, as if to kiss him goodnight.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Steve woke up. He felt uneasy, trembling and sweating. It had all been a nightmare… That one familiar nightmare... He sat up and shook his head, trying to erase the weird images that ran through his mind.

He hated to have those kinds of dreams. It made him feel almost…guilty, even if it wasn't something real.

Those many children, cheering and singing around him, ready to follow his orders, to kneel down before him like he was some sort of twisted king… And that creeper was the worse. Catherine…almost like his daughter's name…

He knew he shouldn't have played Minecraft before going to sleep. That was the most common trigger to that nightmare, after all.

"Dear? Are you okay?"

This was his wife, who had just been woken up by Steve's sudden movement. She seemed very sleepy, with a hint of concern on her face.

He sighed.

"I am alright…it was just a nightmare that woke me up, hehe…"

Suddenly, he felt kind of ashamed. He was acting like a kid, that way, scared of dreams…and it hadn't even been an especially scary one, too. Just…a bit disturbing.

"Ah…go back to sleep, then…"

Steve nodded, but left the bed as soon as the tired woman resumed her rest. He was still slightly nervous and had decided to go drink some water to calm down a bit. He usually didn't do this, since the sound of the door creaking could wake up the little girl asleep on the room next to theirs, but this was an exception.

Yawning, he slowly made his way through the empty and silent corridor that led to the kitchen. Everything was shrouded in darkness

It was like they were still there, the same creatures he had been seeing for months in all kinds of warped dreams. It disturbed him greatly, especially when a few mobs had the same faces as his students in the school he worked.

Breathing deeply, he put a glass under the filter and let the cold water fill it. The loud sound of the water hitting the crystalline bottom had always bothered him, and this situation didn't help it, either.

Little footsteps. One after the other, in an almost inaudible, but constant tap-tap-tap.

He stopped the water flow and turned away from the filter, to avoid dropping the glass (Isn't it funny how common worries strike you even in terrifying situations?).

"Daddy?"

He sighed, in relief. It was just Katy…why was she awake, thought? Had he waken her up on accident?

"Daddy, why are you here? It is night…"

He gently smiled at her cute sleepy expression. Eight years old and still just as cute as she was when she was just a baby!

"I was just thirsty, dear. Now, go back to sleep, it is really late and mother wouldn't be happy to know you are still up!"

In response, the little girl frowned, before yawning and nodding. She was dead scared of her mother when she was angry and so, she avoided that at all costs.

"Go, go, before I tell her!"

The little girl widened her eyes a little and left, dragging her feet as she usually did on frictionless floors.

Steve watched as she walked until she turned around on the corridor that led to her room before shaking his head and getting his glass of water.

Back to bed, he found himself much calmer. Tomorrow he had to work and he couldn't let those dreams get between him and the school.

He listed to the rhythmic respiration of his wife and, slowly, he fell asleep once again, this time, untouched by the unsettling dreams.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

_A mix of sounds, words, screams, hisses, moans, cries and things that couldn't be properly described._

"_Brother…"_

"_Hello, sir! Follow me"_

"_Isn't it time, already?"_

"_There is too much sound, mom! I don't like it. No, no, no…"_

"_Come on, we can do this. It is possible"_

"_Hurry! There is no time left for you!"_

"_Ughhhh…more."_

"_KNEEL DOWN!"_

"_Shhh…They can hear us…"_

"_If you break this promise…"_

"_Laugh your way out?"_

"_Lalalalalalatarararala…"_

"_Hey, stand on fours."_

"_SSssssssSSSSSSSSsss"_

"_Please…"_

"_It hurts…go on!"_

_That town was full of a childish, illusory lullaby when 3 a.m arrived, but it ceased as soon as half an hour had past. They were preparing it for him. _

_Aren't those kids formidable? _


	2. Routine

The routine at Steve's house was practically the same every day. His wife, Martha, was always the first to wake up. She would take a bath, and the sound of flowing water would be enough to awaken Steve.

At this point, Kate was usually already waiting for her father to go into her bedroom tell her to go ready herself.

While all women in the house cleaned themselves in the two available bathrooms, it was Steve's duty to prepare the breakfast, usually just milk for everyone (Martha said that coffee damages your brain, even if she had no proof of that) and bread or toasts, depending on whether they had forgotten to transfer the bread to plastic bags or not.

After Martha was done, it was Steve's turn to take a bath, which would last way less than his wife's.

Soon, all of them were cleaned and dressed, sat around the table and enjoying the food before they got into the car and each one was delivered, like smiling packages, to their respective places.

Martha was a doctor. She worked at several public hospitals, juggling her time around to attend all of her patients. Not an easy life, but the money she gained made up for it.

Steve worked at a local private school. He taught science to kids on five different grades, from second to sixth. He was well liked, and even if his job wasn't very well paid, he enjoyed it and wouldn't change it for anything in this world.

Curiously enough, Kate didn't study in the same school her father lectured, but in a different one, that, according to her mother, was better and more respected. It was a common topic of discussion between daughter and mother, since Kate disagreed, saying that she would do better if her father was her teacher. As always, Steve didn't dare to join the discussion. He didn't want to make any of them upset. He was way too passive for that.

On his work, he was very well liked by most, with the exception of some paranoid mothers that insisted that their children had to have a woman as educator.

One of his most well-known habits was to bring a bag of candy on Fridays and distribute them, among the most well behaved students. Well, at least this was the intention, since in the end he would be too touched by all those cute pouty faces of the ones that hadn't gained any and would end up distributing them to everyone but the worse behaved students.

He was a nice natured person, no matter what. Way too soft, some said, but nice, nonetheless.

By noon, school time was over, and he left to pick up Kate. Lunch would be by two in the afternoon, usually without Martha, since she lunched at her work.

A little chicken and rice would do it, and most of the time there would be leftovers.

Steve always spent his afternoon correcting tests, formatting texts and materials for his students and so on. Unless he had way too much work, he would be done by the time his wife was home.

They would dinner together, again milk and bread, though sometimes they would mix all of the week's leftovers with rice and warm all of it. The result was tasty, thought it demanded more ingredients and time.

A seemingly little, simple, happy life that most families would envy. Steve was happy with it, of course, despite a couple discussions that popped up here and there regarding trivial things.

Maybe the fact his life was so nice was, partially, the reason why he was so disturbed by his nightmares.

It was a terrible contrast. All the children smiling and playing on the school whenever it was snack time against the creatures on his dreams, crying, screaming, whispering, licking, falling to their knees and staring, just staring with their cold eyes, full of corruption.

What if his daughter became like one of them?

This was the question that overwhelmed him this night. His wife was long asleep, exhausted from working all day, so he was free to walk around the room in circles, twisting his hands in anxiety.

It was a deeply disturbing thought, to him. He loved his daughter very much, and even the faint possibility of she becoming like his dreams was horrifying.

He could picture it, creating scenes from imagination scraps.

_One of those dimly lit corridors, smelling terribly, like usually. An overwhelming silence._

Steve had to sit down.

_Little, cute Kate, walking down the corridor with one of those dirty, tattered dresses zombies wore, a little too big for her size._

He had to stop thinking of those nefarious things! It wasn't going to happen, he didn't need to worry.

_Standing on front of him, with their same smiles. Eyes burning in that unique cruelty characteristic of them._

_Little steps, one by one, as it finishes corrupting itself. _

Steve shook his head, dismissing the little scene. Kate was safe, Kate was home, near him and he would never stop protecting her.

He sighed and decided to calm down before going to sleep. Sitting on a corner, he started the computer (In fact, just a handy laptop) and connected to the internet.

Well, seeing if the school or some student had sent him something was nice, at least.

He browsed through his e-mail for half an hour, saddened by the sheer amount of ads and links to viruses piled up there. No one had sent him anything, after all, not even a silly Facebook link!

He was about to give up trying to distract himself when he noticed something new in the "trash" section. Why were the most important things the ones sent there?

This message had been sent by one of his students. . A little girl with a rebel temper and the fame of having had enormous with her parents several times and almost fleeing home once despite her young age.

It wasn't something especially interesting. Apparently, she wanted him to be her particular teacher. Being eleven years old, she was out of the typical range of students he had, but why not to give it a try? He would have to talk to her tomorrow, thought.

There was an annex to the e-mail called "If you can do it". He opened it.

It was simply a little picture of a teddy bear hugging someone, along with a big "THANK YOU!"

Written on it. A cute gesture of her part, he thought.

He didn't really have time for particular classes, and if he did, they wouldn't be all that cheap. He could talk to her parents, thought, to see how things could be done.

After this, he didn't really find anything interesting, other than a couple sales in stores in some stores.

He turned the laptop off, closing it to avoid the annoying remaining lights from it to interfere on his sleep. Well, interfere more than things normally did, at least.

Laying down on his bed, he looked at his peaceful, sleeping wife with some sadness. They had been married for a long while… it had never been exactly a relationship full of love, but he did feel attached to Martha. He always had. But now…it was as if it didn't matter so much anymore. He knew quite well that Martha had a little case with a friend from her work, mostly a thing about having fun on Sundays, and yet…he wasn't angry, upset or even surprised about it. In fact, he understood it.

Martha was a vigorous, strong woman who liked to see things done her way. She hated receiving orders and wouldn't do anything for anyone if she thought it was wrong. Like a wild bird, she hated being caged in routines.

This life surely was a hell to someone who had, long ago, run away from her own home to live the dream of freedom and free will to do whatever she wanted to. Steve knew it wouldn't take long before she decided it was time to break free from the crystal cage they had built around themselves.

What would be of Kate if Martha left? Would she take her away? No…Steve would go in justice to bring his daughter near him. He could let everything happen, but he wouldn't tolerate having Kate to be taken away from him.

And how living in an unstructured ambient would affect her? She was just a child, she needed role models! What about debts? Would he be able to pay them alone with his teacher salary? He highly doubted so.

Maybe Martha wouldn't leave, after all. Maybe she would think twice and decide for the well- being of the family. In this case, he was just stressing himself for nothing.

Steve looked at the white ceiling, yawning. He was tired. Very tired. By now, the disturbing thought about his daughter's future had vanished, replaced by plans and questions about the uncertain future of the family that had, to this day, lived the most perfect life possible.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo OoOoOoOoOoOo

"Wake up, sweetie..."

Steve turned around in the bed, without wanting to open his eyes. Catherine could be very annoying by the morning...

"It is not morning, Steve, the sun is setting outside"

Her voice was so sweet it was sick. He knew her enough not to trust it, thought. Behind her kindness, there was always something else, often disgusting or painful.

Suddenly, something warm and weird against the side of his face, leaving a wet trail behind. He immediately sat up and looked around, instinctively brining his hand to his face in order to clean it with the pillow he was holding.

Catherine laughed, mouth open and tongue hanging. That stupid creeper has just licked him to get a reaction.

"Come on! That is gross…"

Catherine stopped laughing, reducing it to a big smile. She stared at Steve with her cold, demented eyes, which sent shivers down Steve's spine.

"Not like you are in conditions to judge what is gross and what is not, sweetie. We are a part of this together, don't you remember?"

He stepped back.

He didn't want to listen to her. He wasn't a part of this madness, after all! He couldn't and he shouldn't be.

The putrid wood below his feet, which had been trying its best to keep Steve upstairs, could no longer take it. With a loud noise, it broke, letting both the creeper and the human fall through a row of floorless stores that weren't there before.

Catherine giggle, twisted herself around as she fell down, uncaring to her fate, a handful meters down.

Steve screamed in shock, but no sounds ever came out. He glanced at the mad creeper, without understanding.

Time seemed to slow down around them. Or maybe it was gravity becoming smaller, or even the air, thicker.

A whole minute passed, but they never touched the ground. Instead, some kind of fog took the whole place, filling it with unnatural hues of red, green and blue. Its smell was horrible, just like all smells in the town, and it had almost a hallucinogen effect.

Things started to appear out of nowhere, patches of grass floating in the air, water flowing around, children dancing, following the movements of the slowly disappearing Catherine, clouds spiraling around, sounds being created from nowhere…

Where was he, after all?

In the middle of a dirty excuse of a park. In fact, it was more like a public trashcan, with a couple corpses thrown in the middle of the highest garbage piles. Steve stepped back, only to almost fall to ground due to some kind of black, rancid liquid spilled there.

The sudden motion made him realize that he was still holding the pillow…what was the pillow a minute ago, at least.

It was now a plastic bag. Not any plastic bag, thought. Steve knew this one very well. The little stickers, the hole near the top, the word "REWARDS" capitalized in the middle, the big smile drawn with green permanent pen…

This was the bag he used to carry around the candy he gave around on school.

It made no sense. For a second he asked himself how he had gotten there, but he couldn't concentrate. It was like some kind of fog taking over his thoughts and disbanding any group that could let him realize what was happening.

"Are you alright, mister?"

He looked around, still confused by and trying to set a path to his thoughts, without success. This was unlike the last time, in which he had simply given up trying to fight against this world's nonsensical logic.

It took him some time to realize that, somehow, he was now mobbed by those "children" that plagued this place. These ones, thought, seemed way worse than others. Sick and injured, mostly. The creepers had lost most of their usual thick, spiky fur and had, instead, big red and purple patches. Skeletons were missing parts, and some used their arms to crawl around, seeming that they no longer had legs, along with zombies, thought the zombies naturally looked worse. Other mobs were barely recognizable due to their plain gross looks.

Steve could barely reply. It had been way too sudden and disturbing for him to digest the information. All he managed to do was to stand there, mouth open, trying to make any kind of sound, whatever it was.

Something tugged at the candy bag. He quickly pulled it away from the creature, a pathetic, rachitic ender child that could barely stand on its legs.

Something about it called his attention, thought. The eyes. They were a weird color, like a greyer version of the usual purple one, giving it a weird fragile, faded quality along with the usual cruel look.

His hand trembled as he slowly opened the bag and handed it a sweet. It was a completely unconscious thing. The dream had decided that he had been distributing sweets around on its own and he couldn't change it.

The creature hungrily opened the fragile paper surrounding its reward.

From inside, a dead, rotten silverfish revealed itself, a thick black liquid coming out of what was once its eyes. The little ender smiled and put it on its enormous mouth, licking the muddy rests of decomposition happily and even licking its broken claws.

Steve looked into the bag once again, eyes wide in fear. There, on the bottom, the same liquid accumulated, dripping into the floor and slowly forming a puddle.

The children looked at the bag full of vermin, wanting them desperately. In fact, thinking again, it wasn't the silverfish that they wanted. If it was, they could have killed Steve to get them, or simply take them from the garbage around them. What they wanted was him to give them something. Anything.

Mouths open, mutilated tongues in the air, dripping blood, saliva, puke and all sorts of horrible things. It was a wave of strange beings that were barely themselves, by now.

Steve was completely overwhelmed. Dozens of little hands and paws of all sizes pulled his shirt, his bag and his pants, begging not to be forgotten. He simply threw candy at them compulsively, eyes closed in order not to see their disfigured faces.

That didn't stop him from feeling, thought.

The texture of each individual hand, the cold, dirty liquid against his hand as he pulled out soaked, sometimes still agonizing silverfish. The smell of the air, suddenly stronger to him, simply nauseous. His stomach turning around and around, with him ready to puke. Their voices, a whispered mix of all kinds of possible and impossible sounds, barely audible until they talked to him directly.

Soon, all of this messed up dream world faded into the white bless of the end of a nasty dream.


	3. Identity

"Umm…Teacher? What does amphibian mean?"

The little question made Steve wake up from his daydream. He looked at the young boy doing the class homework, his eyes full of tire and explained that it was just a word for animals like frogs and salamanders.

This was the first time Steve asked for homework to be done while in class. He knew children hated these kinds of boring activities, especially when their favorite shows depicted science classes as always fun and full of cool experiments.

Steve understood it, and always tried to make his class as interesting as possible. Today was the first exception he made to this rule in three years.

He was just tired, disturbed and feeling like he had done something disgusting. Steve did not know exactly why. Maybe it was the fact he had seem an object of his waken life on it. That did not make any sense, thought! He had seem many other things already, why would a candy bag be so terrible to see? If this was the logic, he would be locked home, too scared to even move by now.

He had not brought his candies to the children today, just in case. Of course they were all disappointed and, some, even worried, but Steve was sure this was the best way.

The day went by with no greater incidents, other than a little girl crying over her not given reward for good behavior. It was a funny scene, to see her screaming and complaining she wanted chocolate while her mother screamed even more in embarrassment and anger. The poor girl sure would "find a reason to cry" when she got home. The man was heartbroken by this, thought. He hated to see sad children, especially when he was the reason they were so sad.

His head hurt like crazy by the time he left his job. The hot, heavy air typical of big cities just made it worse. He didn't complain about it, thought. A part of him acknowledged even this as his very own fault, fruit of something gruesome, awful he had "done".

His daily routine went on as usual. No one noticed his altered state, fortunately. Maybe it was because he usually didn't dare to say anything or because today was a particularly agitated day for both Martha and Kate. Even thought it was Friday, they still had many things to do.

Martha had a meeting that he had to attend and that would last for a couple hours. Not that big of a thing, but important for her job and, of course, gave her an excuse to go out with her "best friend" and have dinner together. As for Kate, she had a ton of homework to do on one her friends' house. After months insisting, her mother had finally allowed her to spend the weekend away.

By the time he finished preparing the classes for Monday, both had already left the house. Completely alone, he could do whatever he wanted to. For a second, he thought about turning on the computer. The possibility of misclicking and opening up Minecraft made him instantly give up. Out of things to do other than cleaning the house, he decided to go to the park.

The transit was calmer by now and so, the air felt purer. The park wasn't exactly a beautiful place for a walk, but it was alright. Steve didn't really care about the vandalized fountains, the garbage on the ground and awful landscaper work. Of course not. The trees, even if they were just five, and the surviving flowers more than made up for it.

"_Islands of innocence amidst the corrupted surroundings…_"

This was a completely irrelevant reflection on it, but somehow, it made sense for the man. It was linked to the Dream Children, too, except that they had not such a thing as innocence islands there. All of them were vandalized public buildings and milk shake cups thrown in the ground, full of vermin by now.

He sat on the first not disgusting bench he spotted and rested his head against his knees. He felt weak and dirty. Who in heavens would dream about such things? Certainly psychopaths! He would rather die than being connected to such scum.

He trembled and was pale. Maybe scared, even!

"_It shouldn't shake me so much. It just shouldn't. It makes no sense! People have those dreams. It is normal, I think, and they don't get like…this. It is shameful! I cannot stop it, thought…ugh_"

Something on the other side of the park suddenly called his attention.

It was a young girl wearing an old, torn and tattered dress. She seemed to live on the streets. He couldn't make out little details of her face due to distance, but he could see her hair was an astonishing golden color, thought reduced to a muddy blonde due to what were probably layers of years worth of not washing her hair.

She was standing up against a streetlight, arms crossed, as if waiting. It seemed just so…out of place. Of course, this wasn't a place exclusively for the rich and powerful. If it was, then he was just as misplaced as her. No, no, it was just that he had never seem a homeless kid before, or at least, one that looked so much like a homeless kid.

He wanted to go there and talk to her. It was more than just sympathy or pity, it was some sort of instinct, like a mother who sees her son crying and instinctively wants to know what happened and to comfort him.

He did not move out of his place, thought. A part of him knew it was the best to stay still, not even looking at her. This part saw what the other part chose not to see: The all too familiar aura of corruption around her angelical frame.

She looked around and, for a single second, pierced Steve with a pair of pitch black eyes that didn't match the rest of her. The sensation was breathtaking. His heart beat faster. It was some sort of anxious fear of her, even thought he knew that she couldn't do much against him.

He could stand up and go talk to her. It would be easy and would calm him down. He did not dare to, thought. He wanted to watch, to know more, feeling the weird mix of amazement and horror that took him over.

A black car appeared and stopped near the child. She talked a bit to the driver and got in. Maybe she wasn't homeless after all.

Feeling tense, heart pounding and without anything to do other than continue tormenting himself, he decided to go home and rest his head. It was enough for today.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

He took a long bath. Martha wouldn't arrive before midnight, certainly, so he could just let the water warm him while he let his thoughts flow. A strong sick feeling, a headache and a terrible uneasiness. A part of him acknowledged the water waste, but right now, the destiny of the African people was not something he wanted to think about.

When he got out, it was already late in the night. Not a single sound could be heard, other than his wet steps in the floor. Drying himself carelessly, he sat on the bed for a minute before gathering the strength to go dress himself.

He feared what he could dream about today. Maybe it would just get worse from now on or simply vanish without leaving a trace of itself.

No matter how scared he was, he had grown some kind of anxious care for his little oppressive land of twisted children and broken beings.

And there was that girl…he couldn't help but to think she was important. Like a piece that belonged to another puzzle but that, somehow, fit perfectly in yours. She belonged in his dreams, no matter how surreal such concept seemed. He just knew it.

At this point, he froze in place.

Unconsciously, he had sat in front of his computer, opening google and Minecraft. Not only that, he was in a world he didn't remember creating: "TOWN KSPOTS"

Basically, it was an enormous map of the city, with several spots of colored wool with signs on top scattered around. His character stood on top of the park's simplified representation. He had just placed a gold block and put a sign on top of it.

"_Little nameless slut—check out later_"

His mind went blank. Had he done all of that without realizing? How? Was that even possible?

This had to be the reason of his otherwise unexplainable fear. Deep down, he probably knew all of that and thus, his brain just made him really stressed all the time so things like this could be minimized and…

No, that was just stupid.

Breathing deeply, he went around the mysterious map, checking on the signs. They were mostly names and vague, often vulgar, descriptions. He knew some of them. They were the names of handful students, mostly put on the place where their house was in the map or where they liked to be.

It just felt wrong…it was like he was stalking them all! Following their lives without any good reason and doing irrational things without realizing.

It was just too disturbing to handle.

He closed the game, staring at the clean google homepage underneath instead.

There was a plausible explanation. There had to be. Something or someone would explain it all to him, from the dreams to the map. They would say it all had been a silly joke, that there was no way he was crazy or weird, that everything was all right, that he had just been acting silly, as always.

But who was this "he" anyway? The man obsessively making a town map with names on them or the teacher giving out candy in the class? Was all of his life, all of the image of himself people had… A lie? It was something just too sudden, too crazy.

What if he had been actually _seeking_ for an innocent looking image? What if he wanted people to believe he was innocent? Was there something deeper that he didn't know?

It was all Catherine's fault…her fault…

A sudden thought sent a chill down his spine. He pressed Ctrl+H, opening the historic.

It popped up on a new window. Everything was clean. Nothing out of the common. He was relieved. For a second he thought he would find something terrible there.

He closed both windows, not noticing the little, weirdly familiar detective symbol in the upper left corner of the screen under, watching him almost judgingly from his eternal spot.

Poor man. Full of terrible thoughts and unreasonable guilt.

When Martha arrived, he was long asleep.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o 

"You know it. You know us. You know everything. But why can't you just know yourself?"

Catherine's voice echoed through the silent city. He felt like screaming, falling, breaking something, anything… Could he ever manage to understand? He knew all he had to do, but somehow, it seemed like the reason had been erased from his mind. It was something humiliating and painful. Something broken and twisted, hiding.

_Those kids are toys._

But why? He shouldn't think like that. He couldn't and it was wrong. There was no explanation whatsoever, thought. He just had to forget it, to bury it.

_Ah, Martha…wasn't she cute, so long ago? Still looking like some seven year old even when she was, what? Fifteen? But she grew up, too, didn't she? Did I love her or what she represented?_

What was the meaning? All he knew was that it hurt to think like that.

Soft fur, cold scales…he could feel these against his hands, now. Those horrible children were there.

_Why am I scared of them? They are all so submissive and kind…_

Those dreams meant something. They were there for a reason. They wanted to show him things he always denied, over and over.

The children were all around. Everywhere. Near and far. A pest and the only beauty of the condemned city in his mind, which he wasn't even sure as to why it was even there.

_I know who I am. Why am I even worried? I know my name. My life. My place. I know myself._

He didn't want to let it happen. But he knew that he was lying.

Opening his eyes, he stared at the tiny, smiling zombie tied to the wall, as if waiting. He never took his eyes away from it, for if he did, he would have to acknowledge the sea of children's corpses rotting in the ground. All of it his fault, forever, no matter what.


End file.
